Part 37 (1/2)

”All the curl has gone out of Martha, even,” remarked Cricket, mournfully, surveying his straight tail.

”His tail will curl over again, when he begins to chirk up a bit,” said Marm Plunkett, comfortingly. ”He'd orter hev a dish of milk het up for him right away,” she added. ”Wisht I hed some to offer you.”

”I'll go right home with him, then, Marm Plunkett, and I'll run all the way. I'll borrow this little shawl of yours, if you'll let me, to keep him warm. Now, I'm going to run, but the rest of you needn't come so fast. Good-by, Marm Plunkett. I'll come and see you again, some other day;” and off darted Cricket, followed more leisurely by the rest, leaving Marm Plunkett still murmuring,--

”Have--I--seen--Miss--Cricket!”

CHAPTER XXII.

HELEN'S TEXT.

”Oh, dear me!” sighed Eunice, dolefully, the next morning at breakfast.

”What dreadful changes there are going to be! Hilda goes to-day, the boys leave on Monday for their camp, and Edna goes on Tuesday to her grandmother's. Cricket and I will be left all forlorn.”

”Yes,” added Cricket, pulling a long face, ”and on Tuesday morning Eunice and I will be wearing the garbage of woe.”

”Whatever you rig yourself up in, Miss Scricket,” said Archie, amid the general laughter, ”don't deck yourself out in _garbage_. You'd be a public nuisance. Flowing 'robes of porcelain,' like the heroine of one of your stories, would be better.”

”You needn't tease me about that, for you know as well as anything that I meant _percaline_.”

But Auntie Jean and grandma had to enjoy this alone, for the boys were not equal to the fine distinctions of girl's apparel.

As Eunice said, there was a decided scattering of their little party.

Hilda left Sat.u.r.day afternoon, the boys departed on Monday, for their camp in the Maine woods, with a party of friends, and on Tuesday Edna had to go for her usual fortnight's visit to her grandmother Somers, who always spent July and August at Lake Clear. She was a _very_ old lady, much older than Grandma Maxwell, and a good deal of an invalid. Edna much preferred staying with her cousins, but Grandmother Somers was very devoted to her only little granddaughter, and this was the particular time when she wanted her. Edna had never been there without her mother before, and really dreaded it. She had urged taking her cousins with her, but Auntie Jean knew this would be altogether too much responsibility for so old a lady to have, since she herself could not leave Marbury.

”I hate to go like poison,” sighed Edna to Eunice, as they strolled up and down the station platform, while waiting for the train. ”I wish I could stay here. I wish grandma wasn't so fond of me. I wish you could come, too. I wish the two weeks were over. I wish--”

”Toot-to-toot!” whistled the approaching train.

”Horrid old thing! I wish it would run off the track! Wish Mrs. Abbott would forget to start this morning. She isn't here yet. _Do_ you suppose she's forgotten?” with sudden hopefulness.

Mrs. Abbott was a lady under whose care she was going.

”No such good luck!” murmured Eunice. ”There she is now. Write to me every day, Edna.”

”And you'll have time to write some lovely stories for the 'Echo,'”

chirped Cricket, encouragingly.

”Yes, I will, and be glad too. It will be something to do. Think of my saying I'd be glad to write stories! Yes, mamma--good-by, everybody,”

and with hugs and kisses all around, Edna was put on the train and was off.

The children were both very quiet on their return ride from the station, and Auntie Jean began to fear that they might be homesick, with all their playmates gone. But when they reached home again Cricket drew Eunice into a quiet corner, and surprised her by flinging her arms around her neck, with a gigantic hug.

”I do love Hilda and Edna,” she said, ”but there's n.o.body like my old Eunice, and I'm _so_ glad to have you all to myself for a little while again. I _don't_ want to be selfish, and poor Edna hasn't any sister, but--”

”Why, you poor little thing!” said Eunice, hugging her small sister, heartily. ”I expect _I've_ been very selfish. I've never thought that, perhaps, you were being lonely when I was so much with Edna. You always seemed so happy.”

”Oh, I am _happy_!” answered Cricket, surprised. ”I always am, I guess.